someone gimme motivation to finish this damn oneshot I'm not good at this and I'm close to feeling like SpongeBob when his brain was on fire because he forgot his name
Remember me, my happiness - Chapter 2
Welcome to your Hell, Ash
This is part of a series, masterlist here.
Content Warning for this chapter: Self-degradation.
A name? The cuts on his back throbbed - letters, it would seem.
"What?" He looked up at the man.
"Are you deaf, Ash? Tell me the name I carved into your back. Say my name."
He squinted his eyes, shaking his head in confusion.
"I don't know you." He whispered. "How can I tell you your name?"
Or did he? No, he feels that he would remember him if he truly knew him. He would remember someone that seemed to leech arsenic into the air just by the way he stared into Ash's eyes. The cold gray eyes behind the joking manner he portrayed for himself. The features of a deceiving fox. And that pale skin, even more pale in contrast with his dark hair, making him look dead. Or like Death itself. The more he stared at the man, the more he made him uneasy, despite being what one would consider "attractive".
The man looked down at the knife in his hand, spinning it on his fingers, before tilting Ash's chin with it. His gaze was even colder than before.
"Whether you know me or not is... irrelevant, darling. I gave you the answer already. You should have paid attention like I told you to."
Ash gritted his teeth, feeling the cuts on his back throb. He remained silent, trying to make sense of them as the man pulled away. He walked around Ash, whistling. It made it even harder to decipher the name that's supposedly carved into his back.
"Oh," the man suddenly stopped, "I forgot to tell you: if you get the name wrong, I'm killing your sweet woman, child and dear friends."
Ash went cold, losing the color from his face.
"What? No! They have nothing to do with this!" He struggled in his binds.
"Oh, I know." The man chuckled. "And I wouldn't like to kill them either. I don't like to kill children. So, do me a favor and get my name right. Or, give up."
He shook, biting his lip. Focus, focus, focus- But he couldn't make a single letter out of the pain in his shoulder.
"I will give you one minute."
The man walked around him, whistling. Each step made Ash's heart beat faster, the idea that he would fail taking over his mind.
"30 seconds, Ash." The man said in a sing-song tone, mocking him.
His heart beat even faster, his eyes erratic. It's useless, give up, don't put them in danger for a worthless being like you. These thoughts clogged his mind, making it impossible to think.
"Oh, is it possible you want to really stay here, Ash?" The man joked. "10 seconds."
The man counted down.
Don't put them in danger.
You're not worth it.
You have been living too comfortably for a waste of space.
"5, 4, 3."
The man stopped right in front of him, grabbing his hair.
"Oh, would you look at that. You didn't even try. How pathetic." He laughed.
Ash gritted his teeth, reality sinking in.
"So I guess you will have to spend the rest of your pathetic life with me."
Ash's stomach turned into itself. The man's expression dropped to a cold one, and his tone became softer.
"Welcome to your Hell, Ash."
¤ To be continued... ▪01/26▪
¤ Taglist: @kim-poce @whatwasmyprevioususername
¤ Feel free to ask to be tagged, and please reblog if you liked it.
That scene from Eternals where Druig says "My beautiful, beautiful Makkari" not only lives, but has repeated screenings in my mind, rent-free
ugghh there's something so romantic about postcards. like the "we're distanced by space but not by heart" and the "i saw this art and thought of you" and the " and the "you were on my mind when i saw this place" and the
cw: Legalized slavery, wound cleaning, past whipping, partial nudity (waist up), noncon touching (nonsexual), fear of punishment
Maximus guided them into one of the house’s many bathrooms, the heels of his boots clicking against the marble tile. Oakley had no choice but to stumble forwards, pain flaring across their back with each step they took. Their forehead scrunched up as Maximus pulled a soft white towel off the shelf just by the large porcelain bathtub.
Oakley gasped when he wrapped it around their shoulders, the nice fabric instantly soaking through with their crimson blood. They barely felt the stinging pain as the fibers of cotton rubbed against the open wounds crossing their back, frozen still in place with shock.
“Sir-” They whispered, their heart nearly stopping in their chest as their hands went cold and clammy. Oh God, Misses Clara was going to kill them when she found out they ruined one of her nice towels—she’d beat them bloody! More so than they already were. She’d order them a hundred lashes, if not more! “Please, you- I can’t-”
“Hush.” Maximus shushed them, guiding them to sit down on the cold floor. Oakley fell to their knees when prompted, then cringed as they remembered those were injured too. They quickly switched to sitting, grabbing their tunic from where Maximus had set it on the sink’s counter, and using it to mop up the small splatter of blood their knees had left. “This is my mess, I’m responsible for cleaning up. Stay here.” Master Elias’s son ordered, before slipping from the room.
Oakley let out a small groan, pulling a trembling hand through their dirty hair, tugging the knotted strands. They knew Maximus meant well, but this was only going to get the both of them in trouble with Misses Clara. If she walked in on them, she’d flip, Oakley just knew it. She wouldn’t give them time to explain that it had been her son who had wrapped the towel around their bloody back, no. She’d jump to conclusions, give them a hard slap and maybe a kick, before going to get Master Elias for a proper beating. They knew that if that happened, it would be one hell of a whipping. They’d already bothered him once that day with a stupid mistake, twice was pushing it too far.
Maximus returned a few minutes later, carrying a bottle of vinegar, a rag, a little jar, and a roll of bandages, all balanced precariously in his thin, long arms. Oakley bit their lip, knowing exactly what was to come. If he didn’t drop everything—he looked moments away from doing so. They itched to offer to take something off his hands, but they knew he’d refuse. He was very independent, they’d give him that. He never wanted to accept help or assistance, which Oakley knew each time they went to clean his room, make his bed, bring him meals, the list went on. They appreciated it, sure, it lessened their workload and everything, but Misses Clara didn’t see it that way. She only saw them being lazy, having her tired, hard-working son do chores that they had been assigned. In the end, it would have just been easier for everyone if he resigned and let them do their job.
“Sir, please, I must get back to my work,” Oakley tried again. They knew Maximus wouldn’t reprimand them for speaking out of turn, so they decided to risk it. They knew he meant well, trying to help them and all, but really they needed to go. They had to finish the dishes, the laundry, and the dusting. After that, they still had to make dinner, and bring Master Elias his afternoon tea. They needed to feed the cat, as well, and wash the windows, and water the plants, and- “I’ll be punished, please-”
“I’ll make sure my parents know this is my doing,” Maximus waved off their concerns, as he dropped to a crouch behind Oakley, and pulled the towel back. Oakley winced as the fabric clung to the wounds, sticky with their blood. They twisted their head, their eyes widening as they saw what had become of the nice towel. Misses Clara really would kill them, despite Maximus’s promises to step in. Blood had soaked through nearly the entire towel, turning the white scarlet. Maybe if they just put it in the bathroom with the red towels on the third floor, Misses Clara would never know. She rarely went up there anyways. It was stupid, Oakley thought with a shake of their head. The thought was disgusting, and it would never work. “I won’t have you walking around with open wounds like these.”
“Sir-” Oakley pleaded, sucking in a breath as he uncorked the bottle of vinegar, and poured some onto the little cloth. Oakley had always been in charge of taking care of their own wounds. Never before had they used vinegar to clean their cuts, no. Master Elias spent good money on all of the groceries, they wouldn’t dare use any for their own insignificant needs. They always used plain soap and a rag, which apparently worked just fine for them because they had never gotten an infection. Then again, they had been extremely careful in preventing one, because they knew Misses Clara wouldn’t care if they got sick. They could be dead on their feet, and she would still make them work.
“Stop calling me sir.” The man snapped, before his tone became gentle once more. “My name is Maximus.” His long fingers fumbled with the cork of the vinegar bottle as he closed it, and Oakley couldn’t help but doubt how well he knew what he was doing. He was clumsy and awkward, surely not too experienced in the medical field. They really didn’t want him taking care of their wounds, but they knew that they’d just offend him if they said so, so they kept their mouth shut.
“I’m sorry, Maximus,” Oakley quickly apologized, gritting their teeth as he pressed the rag against the first of the wounds, a stinging pain shooting across their back, seeming to set each nerve alight. By God, they knew alcohol stung like Hell, but vinegar? They had not expected the fiery pain that blasted up their spine. Their fingers flexed as their toes curled, almost involuntarily as they held back a cry, though a low groan managed to slip between their lips.
“I wish there was an easier way,” Maximus muttered, as he continued to clean the lash marks. Oakley tried to keep as quiet as they could, but every so often a little hiss or whimper would slip out, and Maximus would wince in sympathy. “I used to want to be a physician, you know? Not a banker… I would borrow books from the library, read about the medicines and herbs, natural solutions and such…” He rambled. Oakley tried to listen, really they did, but between the pain and their worry that Misses Clara would barge into the bathroom at any moment, they weren’t really paying much attention.
“-I’ve done enough talking,” Maximus sighed as he set down the bloody rag, and picked up the little jar, twisting off the cap to reveal a yellowish, strongly smelling cream. Oakley craned their neck to see over their own shoulder, nearly gagging. It looked disgusting, to say the very least. Little chunks of something green floated around in the balm. Oakley couldn’t help but think back to the leftover soup they had found in the back of the pantry. It had to have been months old, and by God had it reeked. The thought did nothing to ease their twisting stomach.
“This will prevent infection,” Maximus wrinkled his nose as he scooped some more up with two fingers, his face twisting in disgust. Oakley almost told him to put it away. They caught themself before they actually opened their mouth, though. They had never used any special salves before, what was the point? If they cleaned the wound and were extra careful, there was no need. “Don’t ask what’s in it. What about you, though? What did you dream of doing?” He asked.
“I-“ Oakley sucked in a breath as he began to dab the ointment against the wounds. “I think only of serving my master and his family,” They said carefully, biting their lip to suppress a whimper. They had… never been asked a question like that before. They surely hadn’t ever expected to be. What did they dream of doing? Oakley couldn’t remember a time where they dreamed of anything other than a nice pair of shoes, maybe a good night’s sleep. Dreams were for free people. It was wrong of them to wish for something so small, to hope for anything more than what their Master already so kindly provided.
“Surely that’s not the truth,” Maximus shook his head, as he spread the salve over the long gashes that covered Oakley’s back. His thick eyebrows furrowed, as if he couldn’t believe what they had said “Surely you had dreams…”
“Si- Maximus,” Oakley paused, their forehead scrunching up as they tried to think of how to phrase this. “I’m not allowed to have dreams or desires… It’s against the law,” They shut their mouth, biting down on their tongue so hard they tasted blood as his touch became a bit more rough. They shouldn’t have said that last part. They shouldn’t have said anything.
“But- that’s- everyone has dreams!” He exclaimed loudly, and Oakley cringed. Oh no…
“Please, sir, keep your voice down,” They whispered, not even realizing their slip up. “You’ll get us in trouble,”
Me. Oakley wanted to say. You’ll get me in trouble. Because the most the Thornton’s eldest son ever got was a reprimanding, a stern talking to, or maybe a slap on the wrist. His mother, Misses Clara, despite what she said, never so much as laid a hand on her son. With Master Elias, the most he ever did was whack his sons around the ankles with his cane. If he found him and Oakley there, with the ruined towels, oh he’d beat them so badly they wouldn’t be able to stand up for a week. He’d done it before, they didn’t doubt he’d do it again.
“My job is to serve.” Oakley whispered, raising their arms as Maximus picked up the roll of bandages, and began to wrap their back. They knew they should shut up, they were overstepping, oversharing. They were talking way too much. “Not to dream. Not to want or need or wish to become anything other than what I am.”
“I- I’m sorry… I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking.” Maximus mumbled, as he fixed the end of the bandage into place, and Oakley lowered their arms, grabbing their worn tunic off the floor, before pulling it over their head. They didn’t mind the fresh bloodstains, it didn’t matter to them anymore. All sorts of grime covered the ratty fabric, but it was better than walking around shirtless.
“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Oakley dipped their head as they rose to their feet. Maximus looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of if. They were glad for that. They wanted to leave, they had already lost a lot of precious time getting their back taken care of. They still had to go get Lucius that snack he wanted, before he went to complain to his mother.
“Take it easy for the rest of the day, doctor’s orders,” Maximus offered a small smile, but Oakley just swallowed, their forlorn expression unwavering. They couldn't bring themself to return it.
—Kinda Comfort but Mainly Angsty Line Break—
Le tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror @pumpkin-spice-whump @i-can-even-burn-salad @whatwasmyprevioususername
I got my mum into yr….
Having a fear of intimacy yet also not wanting to go out and make friends because I honestly prefer not to deal with other people/burden others with my problems is like a match made it heaven
Odeio a maneira como você me faz sentir na sua ausência: tão sem poder, sem controle, indefesa e pequena. Esperando sei lá o quê. Uma loucura, qualquer coisa vinda de você que me fizesse ignorar a verdade.
Minha cadela está tendo uma febre e eu não consigo dormir porque eu também estou queimando.
O buraco no meu estômago, a garganta impotente e minha cabeça a girar são um lembrete da sua falta. A mistura de vontade e raiva vem do desejo ridículo de ainda caber aí no seu abraço. Sinto raiva de mim mesma por ainda te querer. Me sinto a mais estúpida das mortais por não conseguir desligar isso. Mas vai passar. Vou te olhar e sentir nada exatamente como você faz com que eu me sinta.
Quero voltar pra minha rotina e esquecer que você passou por aqui e me machucou em lugares que eu não conhecia, de uma maneira que eu não pude prever.
Ansiosa pela indiferença. Não tenho que te agradecer por ter ido embora. Não vou romantizar a sua covardia dizendo que pelo menos eu senti alguma coisa depois de tanto tempo. Eu me provei humana e não precisava de você pra isso. Qual foi a necessidade? Espero que tenha gostado.
Sky está sonhando agora, daqui a pouco a febre passa e eu me permito sonhar também. Tudo isso será cômico. Irei rir de mim mesma e da minha tolice enquanto aceno um adeus sem perceber pra um espectro do qual já não me lembrarei mais.
Te escrevo pela última vez porque sei que ainda está lendo. Vou me dar esse último minuto pra sofrer pela sua escolha e depois virar as costas pra tudo isso. Queimar as telas, o Van Gogh, o skate, seus desenhos, qualquer quebra cabeça além desse em que você nos colocou. Espero que você faça o mesmo, que rasgue meu livro preferido, minha camisa, o bordado que te fiz. Nada mais metafórico do que ele em mil pedaços nesse momento. Um coração desavisado e não cuidado.
Segurar a vontade humilhante de me desculpar e te esperar voltar. Por que me culpo? Eu não teria ido a lugar algum. Saber disso me entristece e irrita. Do que você teve tanto medo ao ponto de me cortar sem conversar como combinamos? Se você queria estar perto então sentíamos o mesmo. Eu te esperaria com paciência até você lidar com seus demônios. O combinado era nos ajudarmos com qualquer coisa, desde que juntas. Eu é quem deveria decidir o que considero suficiente.
Você era mais que isso, era sonho.
Dentre tudo que poderíamos ter sido, foi sua culpa sermos névoa. Talvez eu sinta certa presença vez ou outra comprometendo minha visão, mas enxergarei apesar de você. Nesse momento não sei se te perdoaria, amanhã sequer me importarei.
its really impressive how this site has been making me hate it more than twitter manages to
CW: captivity, burns, betrayal, torture, intimate whumper
Hi everyone! Thanks for making it this far in the series :D I’m on a roll so far so I thought an early posting of part 4 before the block sets in on me again >.< So here you go! (Please tell me I’m not the only one falling for the dark and dangerous Deimos....)
Maven paced back and forth in front of the wall she was chained too. The chain was thankfully long enough to allow her the room to do so but she had to cover her ears with her hands to block out the screams that were filtering in through the door.
Someone, out there beyond her room, was hurting and badly. She could help, she knew she could. But she had to keep her abilities on the down low. All of them. However, keeping it all hidden meant she for sure wasn't going to convince the villains to let her heal whoever it was they were hurting.
But then again, that was a bad idea. If the villains knew all that she could do then they would never let her free again. She flinched as it suddenly became silent and she heard the muffled sound of the door closing, must be down a hall, which means that there was more than one room like the one she was in.
Footsteps soon sounded, just as muffled as the door that had closed, and she counted the steps they took before they stopped outside her door and paused. In the time it took for the person on the other side to collect themselves and open the door, Maven had it figured that there must be at least 4 rooms like hers. Assuming they were all the same size and set up.
"We need to talk." She recognized Deimos's voice as the sound of him entering and closing the door behind him. She tracked the sound of his movements as he dragged the chair to sit across from her. She continued to pace, waiting for him to continue when she caught the smell of blood coming off him making her pace faster.
"I'm going to indulge you some more and be straight with you. You are here to stay until I can trust you, but make no mistake you will be with me until the day you draw your last breath. How long until that day depends on you."
Maven stopped short and turned in the direction his voice was coming from. The room, and apparently that hallway, was all dark with no source of light so it was unnerving to say the least that he could be anywhere in this room and that she could be wrong in the direction she choose based on the sound of his voice.
"Any questions?" She could practically hear the smirk on his face.
"Several...actually." Maven told herself to play nice. He just said she was going to be here until she was dead. Said it while smelling like blood. She had to bide her time and stay on his good side for as long as she could. Until she could get her bearings and come up with a plan at least.
"Well that works if we take turns. After you all you still haven't told me anything about your so called family and Team Hero yet." She heard the rustle of clothing and could imagine him sitting back in the chair with his arms crossed or something. She almost laughed at the image because he was so large framed that, when he had that one candle lit for almost a whole minute however long ago that was, he took up half the concrete wall.
"Tell me about Hero2's relationship with Leader."
"That's a question?" She teased with a chuckle before stopping herself and standing still. Crap, she already forgot about playing nice with Deimos.
"Care to tell me about Hero2's relationship with Leader?" She bit her lip to keep back her another chuckle as he played along with her and rephrased it. He chuckled as if seeing her struggle to behave while she come up with his answer.
"Why would I tell you anything that could hurt my family and the team? Do I care to tell you about Hero2's relationship? Heck no. I don't care to tell you anything." She spoke slowly, trying to stay in control of herself while keeping her tone light as she decided to give him the honest answer.
Deimos stood up then, as if expecting the answer she gave and stepped toward her. She heard step close in front of her and she instinctively backed up. He stepped close in front of her again, and again until she had backed herself against the wall and couldn't back up any further. She felt his arms cage her in and his breath was on her face.
"Don't make me hurt you...You're last days could be spent comfortably in my care instead of in pain and blood. This loyalty you give to those who would hurt and use you only to toss you away like garbage will cost you your life if you let it." He leaned close to her ear as he continued, almost needing her to understand that he understood her. "You've been here for two and a half weeks before Villain2 and Supervillain brought in Hero2 for me to play with. And in all that time not one member of your team, or you're family for that matter, has come for you."
Maven shivered and not just from the coolness of his voice or the cold air of the room. The fear that he was speaking a truth was what made her shiver, caged in as she was by him as if she didn't already feel small.
"Jason will come for Hero2...he'll get us out of here. You're threats mean nothing" Maven said as strongly as she could while she raised her head up as if she wasn't blind here in the dark and could still stare him down.
Deimos's hands gripped her neck, collar and all, and slammed her up into the concrete wall. Her feet dangled in the air as she tried to pry his hands loose enough so that she could breath as she began to gasp and struggle for air.
"My threats mean everything." He said simply, as if she wasn't struggling to breathe like a fish out of water. "And if what you say is true, then Jason will come for his lover Hero2. We will see who is right in the end." He let her go and she dropped to the floor gasping for air. The collar and his hands leaving an imprint, not that she could see in the inky blackness of the room. But he could, and he rather liked the image.
"Let's make a bet." Deimos blinked down at her in surprise as she sat up and leaned against the wall, rubbing her now sore neck. "If my brother rescues me with Hero2 you let me live and don’t hunt me down in anger for winning." Deimos smiled wide, almost toying with the idea of lighting the candle so his little hero could see the dangerous monster she was toying with.
"And if he doesn't?" Deimos watched her carefully, grateful as always for his night-vision as he tracked her every movement and facial expression. She took her time and he was almost tempted to rush and make his demand once more for the information she carried but decided against it as he continued to stand above her while she thought it over.
"If he doesn't then I will tell you all you could ever want to know about my big brother." She stated finally. She frowned when he started to laugh at her.
"Are you serious?" He asked in between laughs as he nearly doubled over.
"What about you're family loyalty? You were giving me such grief over it, making me impatient. Making me think about beating it out of you. Tell me, why would you offer me this?" He held a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing further.
"I have my reasons." She said, not elaborating any further. He knelt down to her level on the ground and took her face in his hands. She shivered against it but otherwise didn't fight him which was smart as she was already rebellious enough as it was.
"I will play your little game on one condition."
"...What's the condition..."
"You tell me everything, no holding back about your brother when I win." She scowled and his grin widened when she nodded. "It is agreed then. Now...how will I get the information on the others I wonder...it's not like there are many bets you could make with me. I hold all the cards after all."
"Well...just physically anyway." Deimos smirked as he played with her hair knowing it made her uncomfortable as she tried to move away from him. He grabbed the chain that connected her to the wall and yanked her forward toward him. Instinctively she reached out to grab a hold of him to keep from falling over. He grabbed her to keep her close to him before she could try to pull away.
"Yes. Just physically anyway." He laughed at her and stood her up on her feet. "How long until your brother comes for his lover?"
"I don't know...how long has Hero2 been here? Is that their blood I smell on you? Were they the one screaming?" Maven's eyes widened the more she rambled. "Are they still alive?" He shushed her with his finger on her lips and she recoiled away from him with another scowl she was growing famous for with him.
"Hero2 lives. They've been here for less than a week, which makes about three weeks for you." Deimos left out the rest, deciding she didn't need to know more.
He already spoiled her after Supervillain had tortured her to get what they needed and he was no longer feeling merciful. She was already getting to be far too rebellious and sarcastic rather than submissive. He didn't mind sarcasm here and there if done in humor, but he needed time to correct her behavior if he was going to keep her in the long term as he planned.
But keep her in what way? As a friend and ally? Or as a submissive pet of sorts? He couldn't trust anyone, not ever. So swaying her to be his ally was out of the question until he was absolutely positive she would submit and serve his interests going forward with the plans for the city. People could not be trusted for anything.
"And the blood?" She persisted, one hand at the collar and the other tracing the length of the chain almost absentmindedly.
"It is Hero2's." He answered, crowding her space again. Almost needing her to understand what he said next. "It is what happens when one... misbehaves shall we say? They bleed, they hurt or they die. Hero2 didn't co-operate which is understandable. But they thought they could lie and that my little hero counts as misbehavior. Lying will always result in punishment no matter how one begs."
Maven stayed silent as she absorbed what was being said. She could hear the inflections in his tone as he emphasized 'misbehavior' and explained what happened to liars around here. That indicated that he wanted to keep her around as long as he could. So long as she played by his rules and bowed to his will.
Message received but she had no intention of bowing out.
Her brother may be an ass, the source of all her woes in life, but Jason needed her as his battery. She could always count on that at least. She wasn't going to be left behind, her powers were necessary for Jason's overpowered 'kick everyone in my way down' agenda.
"Deimos, Supervillain needs us topside. Company's coming." Villain2 spilled into the room in a rush, their headlamp flooding light in and making Maven shield her eyes in pain which was pissing Deimos off more as the shadows receded to the corners of the room.
"Excuse the fuck out of me but what do you think you are doing with that light in here?" Villain2 stopped dead in their tracks, arm outstretched as if to grab Deimos by the arm and take him topside as if they were buddies or something.
"Um, getting you? I can't see in the dark." Villain2 answered confused, unknowing or uncaring of their behavior. For the first time in his life he wished Supervillain taught him the same manners and control they taught Deimos but he instantly shook that thought in case she was nearby to hear it.
"Neither could she, and that was what I intended. You are interfering with my prison cell. Get out." Villain2 smirked as if they were playing a game and eyed his little hero up and down and she instantly hid her small frame behind Deimos as if to hide.
"I thought she was Supervillain's?"
"She gave the little hero to me. She's mine." Villain2's eyebrows raised in surprise but they made the smart move and backed away with their hands raised.
"My bad. But get topside, on the double. Team Hero is inbound and she said to make ready." And with that they left, closing the door and leaving Deimos to try and maintain his control in the darkness as he his eyes slowly adjusted to their comfort level after the onslaught of light. Maven was still blinking and rubbing her eyes and he grumbled to himself as he tightened her collar and chain leash. "I guess that means my brother is here to save the day." Maven said sarcastically though she did smirk a little as she wrapped herself in her arms and rubbed to warm them.
"We will see little hero." Deimos strode out of the room once he was satisfied that she was tightly bound to the wall. The collar had a latch that was held by a fingerprint scanner so that only he could remove it. It was a little high tech for his tastes but it was necessary for gaining her trust. Or so he figured. If anything it was only testing his patience.
As he strode through the dark hall, gathering the shadows that receded from Villain2's headlamp as they made for the elevator, Deimos knew he was merely rewarding the little hero for not attacking him even though her arms and legs weren't restrained which he half expected her to attack.
He briefly wondered why she was playing along and the only conclusion he could come to was that she believed without a doubt that her brother needed his little battery and would therefore come save her too.
Maven banged her head against the wall in frustration. It was the only movement she could do given how tight her leash was now. The collar was almost too tight but it was just loose enough to not constrict her airway.
A thought had been circling her brain for weeks now, at least according to Deimos that was how long she was here for, was the fact that Hero2 had been here for less than a week and her brother was already here to save them. With the remote power draw implant her brother had, he would have known exactly where she was and if she was alive or not and yet he still didn't come for her? That implant would have told him she was alive or in pain and geotag her location. It’s not the first time she ran from her brother.
Maven was pissed. Well, that was an understatement. Her emotions were all over the place as the she strained to hear as much as she could through the door. She was confused, hurt, mad and betrayed. That much she could identify in her confusion but then again she never understood her brother to begin with.
She knew he had a separate, secret team of heroes who did the real crime-fighting according to his agenda and that Team Hero she was a part of was just to take the credits and the falls. Team Hero was just a front, for publicity. That was why Jason was so hard on all of them to be perfect at all times or else.
Jason had drilled into her growing up that she lived to serve him, to provide him with power boosts and heal him when he was down. He never said anything about what to do if she were captured by the enemy. As part of the publicity team, she had never been in any real danger when she left the Lair as all the jobs of Team Hero were just set ups. Sure, the injuries she and the rest of the team got were real. Her brother was all about that authenticity.
So how the hell did he leave her here for so long? Was it to punish her? He knew she hated him with a passion, wasn't he concerned she would turn tail or something?
Maven lifted her head as much as she could to the sounds of fighting above her. Sounds of explosions and falling debris shook all around the room, telling her the fight was just a floor above her and she was that much closer to the surface than she originally thought.
Just then the door to her cell opened and a hand holding a ball of flame for light illuminated the outline of her brother in it's doorframe. The glow from the fire spread into the room and his eyes landed on her.
"Jason." She said quietly, stifling as much of her emotions as she could. Her brother was a wild card on a good day and she didn't want to risk anything right now until she could figure out what he was up to. After a pause she asked, "Why didn't you come for me?"
"Where's Hero2?" Maven blinked as he deliberately didn't answer her as he stepped into the room.
"I-I don't know. I've been locked up and tortured in this room for weeks." Maven stuttered as the shock and confusion betrayed her to her brother. He stopped in front of her, the glow from his fire lighting the angry planes of his face. "They tried to get me to help them, to tell them about you, but I didn't. I-" Maven screamed in pain as Jason placed the palm holding his fire ball of light onto her skin. She begged him to stop as she backed as far away from him as leash could but he just cornered her against the wall, his palm alight with flames as he grabbed her shoulder again, burning the flesh. She thrashed against the collar and his hand, begging him to stop.
"Where is Hero2?" He asked again, taking his burning hand away and taking her chin with the other hand that remained normal. For now. Maven blinked up at him, debating whether or not she should tell him that his precious lover was down the hall or if she should keep stalling until Deimos returned so she could watch him rip Jason apart. The latter sounded more appealing but stalling also called for more pain as her brother apparently had no qualms about torturing his little sister.
"I told you I don't know! Please!" Maven screamed when Jason placed the burning palm on her arm this time. She couldn't help but thrash and fight him to try and get him to stop, her legs kicking out at him. She knew she made a connection when the burning pain receded and Jason grunted and stepped back.
"Here! Leader! I'm over here, help! Please!" The voice of Hero2 from down the hall drifted in as they pleaded for rescue, no doubt hearing Maven's screams and knowing the reason why. Her heart clenched in pain once more upon the realization that Hero2 for sure knew Jason was torturing her for their whereabouts and were willing to trade Maven's freedom for their own.
So much for heroic principles.
Jason's body lit aflame and he looked down at her as he pulled the neck of his suit down to reveal the surgical scar from where the implant was for her remote power draw. As if in slow motion, Maven watched as he took his blade and cut open his chest, reaching his fingers and tearing the implant out of his chest with a grunt of pain. Throwing the device to ground, he crushed it beneath his foot while tracing his flaming finger over the cut and cauterizing the wound while breaking eye contact with her.
He took a step closer, nose to nose with her, as the heat of his anger radiated off him in the form of his flames. "I think you know by now that Hero2 is you're replacement, little sister...and that I no longer need you..." Jason brought the blade up to her chest, for once thankful that she was wearing Deimos's collar and that it was big enough to not allow him the option to slit her throat right there.
"But we're family! I'm you're sister, you can't just leave me here!" Maven begged as Jason trailed the sharp edge of the blade down, making her shudder and gasp from it's cool touch on her skin through her shirt.
"No, Maven, we are not." Without a second more Jason plunged the blade into her abdomen to the hilt, the tip just poking out of her back and touching the wall. She reached out to him for support but with his entire body aflame all she did was burn her hands.
He withdrew the blade and ran out of the room to his lover who was still begging for him to save them, leaving her there to bleed out.
Huh, the bastard just killed me... Maven was already weak and tired from being tortured and burned, now she was dying. Bleeding out. She felt her body sag against the wall with only the collar and the short leash holding her head up as her legs splayed out beneath her.
She was left alone in the darkness once more, the blood warm underneath her as it began to pool. She could hear the sounds of fighting down the hall but it was growing faint and she sighed. "At least it's over now...no more fighting."
"Bullshit little hero." Deimos ground out, snapping her back into focus.
"D-Deimos?" She asked weakly, half-unsure if it was really him or if Jason was back to help her die a bit quicker as he and Hero2 escaped with their love intact.
She felt someone kneel down next to her, a hand going to the collar followed by a click of the latch as the fingerprint scanner unlocked it, the collar hanging against the wall next to her. The collar was the only thing that held her head up
"Yes, little hero, Deimos is here." He gathered her up in his arms and the cold darkness surrounded them as he transported via shadow to his quarters. His rooms were secret, only Supervillain knew about it thanks to her telepathy. He left the candles in the room untouched as he strode to the bed and placed her down as gently as he could before hurrying to the bathroom to grab the med-kit.
"This...this is..." He returned as brushed the candles and stack of blueprints off the nightstand before placing the med-kit there. He shushed her from finishing that sentence and brushed aside her hair.
"Let me see the wound. I can stop the bleeding." He told her as he began lifting her shirt to allow him access to her abdomen. The cut was deep and was seeping blood like a river. He had to move fast. As he applied pressure with the gauze he hoped, actually hoped which was a weird new feeling for him, that he found her in time to keep her alive.
Maven felt herself smile and give a little laugh. "Oh...I doubth that...but-but I'm glad you're-you.." She took another shallow breath and shuddered as he worked to save her life. "Glad-me you are..." She mumbled incoherently but he knew what she was trying to say.
"You are glad that I am here, I hear you little hero. Just hang on." He told her as the blood began to slow and finally clot. Taking that as his cue he used the shadows to bring him a candle and hastily lit it's wick, hoping the glow would help her to relax. He sterilized the needle from the kit with an alcohol swab and began to sew the wound shut. The bleeding slowed and eventually stopped but he changed the dressing anyway.
He wasn't going to let the wound become infected on his watch.
She mumbled and grimaced in pain when the alcohol burned the wound as he sterilized it and taped the gauze in place. She panted as he summoned a clean cloth from the bathroom. He wiped the sweat from her brow as he manipulated the shadows to grab a pair of clean clothes and a glass of water from the kitchen sink.
The shadows, as they always have, did as he bid and placed the glass on the nightstand next to the warm glow of the candle and placed the clothes in his lap. He didn't need the candle to see in order to stitch her up, but he hoped it offered her comfort and helped her to see the glass of water on the nightstand. As he dressed her in the clean clothes, trying not to reopen the wound or make her uncomfortable in any way as she weakly tried to fight him and beg him not to look at her body.
"Easy, little hero, there now. The shirt is rather large for you but it is clean and will keep you properly dressed." He reassured her as he layed her back down. "I'm going to go clean up, rest now. Your brother won't find you here. You have my word." She struggled at the mention of her brother, tears running down her face and she tried to move.
"No, it was meant as assurance." He ground out as patiently as he could, forcing her back down. "You're going to reopen your wound-" He looked down at his foot as he felt a drop of blood land. That's concerning. He drew back the sheet as saw a fresh pool run down the side of the bed and begin to drip. His eyes widened at the realization that she was still bleeding out and he lifted her up to check her back.
There it was, a small hole in the small of her back weeping blood. He lifted the shirt but it was already stained with the blood and he went straight to work sanitizing and stitching it up, taping the sterile gauze in place. She was still mumbling nonsense words but he mostly tuned that out as he focused on making sure she had a clean shirt, again, and that she was comfortable on the other side of the bed that wasn't soaked in blood.
She was still struggling against him and he had half a mind to get the straps and tie her in place so she didn't reopen her wounds. He still needed to get the burn gel and apply that to the burns winding their way from her shoulder and down her arm. "Maven." He used her name and he waited for her eyes to focus on him. "Settle down, breathe slowly and tell me what you are trying to tell me."
Maven huffed as she fought to do exactly as he told her. "Light...the fire..." Deimos mentally cursed himself for not realizing that was what she needed. Of course she was afraid of the dark, he saw to that fear personally by keeping her caged in it for weeks. He reached for the candle across the bed where it sat on the nightstand but she reached an arm to stop him, her eyes pleading with his.
She began to cry and her arm shook as she held onto his. Leader did burn her with his flames. Twice. For the second time he cursed himself for not understanding. He waved his free arm and the shadows did as he bid and extinguished the flame of the candle, plunging the room into it's inky depths. She let her arm fall and visibly relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion took her away from him.
Deimos wrapped the blanket around her to keep her warm once he was sure the bleeding was stopped for good. The dark could be a cold place, even for him, so the blanket was thick and warm. He held out his hand as he made his way to the other side of the bed where she was originally and the shadows placed his blade into his hand. He sliced the sheet in one swift motion down the center, careful not to nick her as tore away the blood soaked sheet.
He went about cleaning up, packing away the medical supplies but leaving it there on the nightstand just in case. The shadows helped him by depositing the mop and bucket full of warm soapy water from the bathroom and he went to work on mopping the puddle of blood.
What the hell was he doing? Deimos grumbled to himself, as well as cursing. This was not going according to plan at all. Supervillain's interference, playing nice in the hopes that she would ally herself with him instead of his usual methods of persuasion. Then his nemesis found them, how Jason had done so... he had no clue but finding out counted in the bet they made so he just had to be patient a while longer and be sure his little hero didn't die with the information. Deimos doesn't play nursemaid without a reason.
The only good thing that transpired today was winning that bet and it had better pay off.
Two gay ass purple desert men talk about being gay
Jadzia and Worf Goodbye Part 2